


Holy Insurance

by 1AbbyNewth5



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Holy Water (Good Omens), M/M, Mistakened Suicide, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 17:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1AbbyNewth5/pseuds/1AbbyNewth5
Summary: Aziraphale escapes a witchfinder to tell Crowley about the Antichrist, but...





	Holy Insurance

"Just keep a-WAY from the c-IRCLE, you s-TUPID MAN!" Aziraphale's fingers snapped to the candles surrounding the circle on the floor, and each candle went flying in different directions around the bookshop. The bright aura surrounding the circle faded. The witchfiner's nonsensical blabbering on trying to excorcise the "demon" stopped, and he made an understandably shocked face as he stared at his finger as if it actually did something.

Aziraphale snapped the front doors of his bookshop open, and stumbled over a few books to get to it. Shadwell blinked a few times, turning to see Aziraphale leave, and followed... not to continue trying to excorcise him, but mostly because he noticed that the bookshop was catching on fire from the candles. He just slipped out before the doors were shut, and almost tumbled over on the concrete. Aziraphale was further away from Shadwell as looked over his shoulder, and saw through one of his windows that there was already a growing flame on his desk. Aziraphale knew that sending the candles flying might stop Shadwell from talking, but he didn't want one of his most prized possessions caught up in flames! "Oh, _fuck!_ "

Oh, now is not the time for grieving, the whole world is about to be coming to an end! He figured he'd just go to Crowley anyway, considering he was truly alone both in trying to convince Heaven and the Metatron that there shouldn't be a war and that he knew where the Antichrist was. Just by peering over to Shadwell, who caught himself from slipping on the street while still staring at the tip of his finger, Aziraphale snapped his, and appeared right near Crowley's apartment building.

Another miracle, and Aziraphale is at the entrance of Crowley's flat. He never really visited Crowley's place before, so this is very... 'breaking and entering' feel-y. The angel leans his hand over to a fancy designed doorbell, and spots that the door itself is cracked open just a smidgen. His eyebrows drew together slightly, and pursed his lips as he trusted his gut to grab the knob and open the door. "Crowley?"

Aziraphale peeked his head in, and there is a small empty gray hallway, leading down to another door that was left wide open. His fists were bumping each other as he slowly walked down the hallway while trying to think of what to say on the spot. "Crowley, are you here? This is very very _very _important, I- I must tell you..."

The closer he got to the end of the hallway, the more he noticed something felt... off. Right off the bat, breaking into Crowley's flat, seeing it for the first time, and immediately, Aziraphale senses that something is off. Something holy.

Concern washed all over the angel, and his voice showed it. "Crowley? Where are you? I can't, um... I- I can't find yYYYOOUU!!"

Almost slipping and falling over something, Aziraphale clung onto the door at the entrance of the main room of the flat. His eyes were shut tight, and he slowly opened them by sensing a very rubber-y sulphur smell. It didn't make the angel gag per say, but it did give him a very unsettling feeling in the stomach. He studied himself back to his feet, and peered down to look where the smell was coming from.

A multi-colored steaming puddle of... something was all over the floor near Aziraphale's feet. Melted black material was mushed up inside of it.

Aziraphale backed away from the puddle, already having so many questions racing in his head. He covered his hand with his mouth, not wanting to breathe in the smell of the puddle anymore until he felt a table meeting his behind. He let out a small yelp, hearing something metal clash on the floor right next to him. There was a familiar tartan patterned thermos without the cap rolling around on the floor. Empty.

Small strings were connecting in Aziraphale's head, eyes darting from the puddle to the thermos over and over and over. His breathing became shallow, and his eyes started stinging.

_"I'm not bringing you a **suicide pill,** Crowley!"_

_"That's not what I want it for, just **insurance.**"_

"No. No, no, no, Crowley- you- you wouldn't do this..."

The angel desperately began to search all around the flat, calling out for Crowley over and over. "Crowley?! Crowley, where the Hell are you? I can't find you...!"

The bedroom, the bathroom, and the plant room... Crowley is nowhere to be found. Aziraphale felt himself getting heavy as he stumbled to his knees back in the main room. The puddle near the door was still sizzling, and Aziraphale kept his eyes on the thermos. He shakily picked it up, thumb tracing the pattern edges. His eyes were welling uncontrollably, and before he knew it, Aziraphale began crying. Crying harder over someone he never thought he'd cry for.

Aziraphale has cried over losses before. Over humans he met throughout history, over special monuments and buildings, over the burning of the Library of Alexandria... but this is different. This is Crowley. This is someone that Aziraphale has been accompanied by since the Garden. Since Noah's Ark, since the Crucifixion, Rome, Wessex, Globe Theatre, France, since... _everything. _And now he's just gone.

If Aziraphale told Crowley he knew where the Antichrist was at the bandstand, this would have been a completely different story. Crowley would have gone to Alpha Centuari by now after their break up, but committing suicide before the end of the world was probably too easy, considering Aziraphale gave the holy water to him about fifty two years ago.

The angel heaved a sob at the thought. The thermos was pressed onto his forehead as tears just kept on coming, almost staining his face. Aziraphale's grip on the thermos tightened as he shakily got up to his feet and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. There is a moment of silence-

"You IDIOT!" Aziraphale screamed, mostly at himself. He threw the thermos across the room, hitting the wall with a newly formed crack on it. New tears were pouring out of his eyes as he looked back at the puddle. "Why did you do this, YOU BASTARD?! For SATAN'S- For GOD'S- _ARGH!_ FOR _SOMEBODY'S SAKE,_ WHY YOU OF ALL PEOPLE?!"

The angel's screams echoed the entire flat. Must be loud enough for both Heaven and Hell to hear. But Aziraphale didn't care. The world is about to end, he lost all hope in Heaven and himself, and Crowley is gone. There's nothing he can do now.

The thermos rolled back over to the tip of Aziraphale's shoe. It had a new dent at the bottom of it. Aziraphale didn't care. He picked it up, and had an urge to throw it out the window. He reeled his hand back, and heard leaves rustling from the other room. Aziraphale turned his head to Crowley's plants, seeing them all shaking in... fear? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Grief? What the Hell- Heaven- What the _Someplace_ is this?

It's not the plants physically feeling all of those, Aziraphale knows that for a fact, but... how is he feeling what they're... somewhat feeling? Projecting emotions onto non-sentient things, probably?

Aziraphale's whole posture on wanting to throw the thermos softened, and he walked in the plant room to see them trembling all over. All the leaves were drooping and very wavy. The angel was almost afraid to touch them, but he did so anyway, with the thermos still in his hand. He rubbed a leaf with his thumb as he mumbled, "You poor things."

Thunder rumbled from outside. Aziraphale blinked away from the plants, and stared back at the thermos he was holding. Sighing shakily, he held onto the thermos in his coat and silently miracled himself from the flat to a small bar.

There was a familiar Bentley right near the entrance, and there was a head of orange and red inside of it. Getting tears back in his eyes, Aziraphale gasped and smiled wide, and gained hope again.

**Author's Note:**

> (the plants were shaking cuz Crowley subconsciously put his fear into them while he was looking for Aziraphale in the bookshop ;) )


End file.
